


Grounded: A Plane's Downfall

by IronGut



Series: Iron Ingots [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Air Force, Airplanes, Gen, Homelessness, Origin Story, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Original Character, Vore, fat admiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 16:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronGut/pseuds/IronGut
Summary: Damn hotshot rookies and their arrogance.  Think they can do nothing wrong and get away with anything.  It's a good thing they usually suck and get to have all that arrogance yanked out from under them when they fail.  But what if a newly built plane never did fail in any of his missions, just how far would that cockiness take him?  And how far would he have to climb again when he inevitably did fall?





	1. Freshly Minted Model

*WHOOOSH!* The sound of rushing air and a set of jet engines filled the airstrip as their newest arrival buzzed past the tower and airplane hangar, the stocky yet still agile looking Phoenix in charge raising a wing to shield his eyes from the dust that was blown up past him from the flyby, but otherwise remaining perfectly still and unmoved by the airblast. He looked a bit annoyed at the showboating as he smoothed out his uniform, folding it's collar back down into place, but then again, he knew how these young planes were, especially right after being built. He decided he’d let it slide this time as he watched the new dragonplane circle back around and this time come to a hover in mid-air, cutting his engines and landing right on his feet in front of the hangar. “Glory 110 Aileron reporting for duty, Sir!” He raised up his big clawed hand to his snout and saluted the phoenix, standing at attention and looking, particularly impressive, at least he thought he did. His body was sleek yet muscular, big bulging arms and legs attached to his light grey furred body and white underside. His body decorated with light red tiger-stripe like markings, dark grey claws and upper beak looking like they could catch anything or slash into anything if need be, red highlights on his wingtips, foot/hand palms, and his red eyes to go along with his combat visor.

The phoenix looked him over and gave a nod, ushering the upstart dragonplane into the hangar, assigning one of his ensigns to show Aileron his fueling station and the ins and outs of their base. They were a surprisingly well staffed base for how small they were, the main hangar bustling with activity as was the desert area outside near the tower and tarmac, all sort of avians and bioengineered and mechanically built planes filling the area. Aileron didn't pay too much attention to the ensigns speil, of course he knew where they were, having been briefed as he was being built back at the factory on what he was and what his assignment was. This was the Echo emergency rescue support base, designed for specializing in one type of mission: rescue operations. Aileron had been well built for such a purpose as a combat shuttle plane by the US Government, his long claws designed specifically so that he could fan them out, reach for and grab his targets/cargo with minimal damage or risk of missing them, even at high speeds. His superior strengthened arm and leg muscles were no accident either. It would take a lot of strength to be able to hold onto one or more persons or loads when absorbing the shock of getting them from zero to triple digit speeds in the less than a second it would take to scoop them up. Similarly, his markings were made specifically to fool targeting sensors, and his soft, dense fur to keep a target well hidden and either cool or warm depending on the environment. He was state of the art, top of the line, and beyond that, he was ready and eager, so much so he was barely even paying attention to the ensign showing him around. All he could do was listen for and imagine the sound of the alarm going off, signaling the arrival of a mission.

He didn’t get his wish that night, much to his dismay, spending the night in his hangar space making sure he was well fueled and ready to prove himself. When the following morning came, so too did an alarm blare into the hangar, waking the less eager planes and avians from their rest. “AILERON! Report to the briefing room!” the loudspeaker demanded as the alarm abruptly stopped, the dragonplane grinning big as he punched his fist into his palm and eagerly rubbed his hands together as he set out for the briefing room, uttering to the open air loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, “Showtime.”

A few minutes later and he was in the air, zooming towards his target 12 clicks West and under moderate fire. The state of the art dragonplane sliced through the winds towards his target without seeming to even feel the air resistance as he smirked confidently to himself, smug as could be despite not having flown a single mission until now. It seemed not to matter though as he spotted the feline that was his target crouched down behind cover atop the highest point where he could find, watching the skies in Aileron’s direction to try and spot his evac as bullets whizzed by, the sound of gunfire ringing out through the combat zone. The feline spotted him closing fast with only a few seconds to spare thanks to a flare the plane had deployed, and as Aileron swooped down in his run, the cat leapt from his cover and into the air as well timed with Aileron’s approach as he could. It wasn’t perfectly timed on the feline’s part, but Aileron made up for it, the bullet’s never even coming close as he reached forwards and down, catching his target mid dive with those scoop like claws. His strong arms quickly shifting and acting like shock absorbers as he made sure to grab his target as gently as he could, ensuring that despite his near hundred mile per hour swoop, the cat never suffered more than a few G’s as he was quickly accelerated up to speed and then tugged against the plane’s chest as he quickly banked upwards and out of range of the fire that was only now headed his way. He was in and out before the enemy even knew there was something to aim at, and gone before they could hone in and get any shot other than a hopeful spray-and-pray, which of course meant they had all missed wildly. The smug dragonplane flew fast back to base, clutching his cargo and never even seeming to acknowledge the “thank you” he’d received from the cat. It wasn’t from lack of hearing he’d missed it, he could hear just fine through whatever winds he was in, but he was just so wrapped up in his pride and imagining all the successful missions to come that he missed it.

Arriving back down at the airstrip, it was a quick and easy landing leading to his dropping off of his cargo to the waiting med team. He stood proud with those thick arms folded and a grin on his beak the size of a 747. The whole of the hangar was there to watch the arrival, having seen and heard the long range spy camera and audio chatter, amazed at how direct and swift the new plane was in his execution. Most other rescue planes would land and try to sneak to their targets before taking off from their spot into the air, and few made it back without at least taking a scratch or two. The phoenix looked on and made sure to be as stone faced as ever, inside he was thinking 2 things: he was glad to have a successful mission completed and a clearly skilled rescue plane at his disposal now, and that his cocky attitude was gonna be a problem...


	2. Arrogance Unchecked

“Who else wants some,  _ huh _ ?!” Aileron strutted about before the gathered crowd, most fearing for their safety and backing away, some of the more sensible planes and avians taking off and flying far from where the big grey dragonplane was grinning and scanning to see any spark of challenge from someone else in the crowd, still hungry for action. His previous “opponent” laid on the ground by Aileron's feet, heaving for breath, battered and bruised. It hadn’t been much of a fight for the righteous other plane, who started this whole thing off by trying to talk to A about his boasting and attitude, only for the cocky stud to take it as a challenge and escalate it all the way into a very one sided fight. Not to say that WingFold was entirely innocent in the matter, Aileron had started after all with just a provoking argument that turned into a shouting match, and waited until WIngFold ended up throwing the first punch, a wild flailing swing that had no chance of landing, especially against the younger, faster, freshly built machine.

“WHATS GOING ON IN HERE!?” The displeased shout of the phoenix immediately had the dozen or so onlookers shoot upright to attention, Aileron only half-heartedly so though, much to Bob’s displeasure as he found his way into the center of the crowd circle. He looked down at Wingfold and then up at Aileron, whos neutral “at attention” face was broken slightly by the cocky smirk at the corners of his lips. That was getting wiped off his face  _ RIGHT NOW _ . *BAM!* The phoenix rounded and back-kicked the young plane  _ HARD _ in the gut, the single hit sending him down to a knee, before another knife-chop from the phoenix’s wing connected to Aileron’s cheek and sent him to all fours in just two hits. “NOBODY STARTS A FIGHT IN MY AIRFIELD UNLESS IT’S WITH THE ENEMY!  _ YOU GOT THAT _ ?!”

Ail tried to respond and defend himself, “He’s the one who threw the first-”

“BULLSHIT! I DON’T BELIEVE THAT FOR ONE SECOND! AND IF YOU THINK I’M STUPID ENOUGH TO YOU’RE GONNA HAVE A LOT MORE THINGS COMIN!” Bob cut him off and roared at him, the young plane seeming to finally grow some sense and back down in the face of his commanding officer for once, staying down on all fours for a bit. “NOW YOU BETTER SHAPE UP AND LOSE THE ATTITUDE OR I JUST MIGHT MARK YOU AS DEFECTIVE AND SHIP YOU BACK TO THE MANUFACTURER! GOT IT?!”

“Rrrfff… Yes sir!” Aileron grunted as the pain in his jaw spiked a bit as he gritted his teeth and collected himself.

“DISMISSED! CLEAR THE AREA!” Bob ordered, and within seconds, he stood alone in the empty hangar with WingFold, quickly getting over to him and helping him up to his feet, his tone dropping right back to gentle in an instant for him. “And  _ YOU _ . Get to the infirmary…” He got a salute back from his subject before WingFold limped off in the direction of the medbay. He sighed and hoped he’d just gotten the young plane on the right path with that dressing down.

* * *

Bob slammed the door of his office, alone at last, and able to vent. “MOTHERFUCKING HELL!” He swore and cleared his desk of everything in a single wingswipe. “I don’t care  _ HOW _ much you spent on him  _ OR _ his perfect record! He’s a  _ PROBLEM _ , DAMNIT. And he’s  _ NOT _ gonna fix himself! FUCKING  _ MORONS _ !.” He ranted aloud as he just barely avoided smashing his desk when he slammed his wing down on it in the same knife-blade chop that got him into this damn situation. He glanced down at his shoulder again with a deep groan, it was missing a pip that had been there just a few short hours ago. It seemed that the higher ups didn’t much care for Bob’s assessment of their new highly prized rookie. There’d been a dozen witnesses that indeed said that WingFold had thrown the first punch like Aileron claimed, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, then seen Bob strike the apparently now being called “innocent” plane down, and for that, the phoenix could no longer call himself a Captain. He at least still was in charge of the base, and could try to get everyone on the right path, but that was going to be a whole lot tougher now once this news had begun to spread... and he knew it.

* * *

Fuck. Why the hell did he have to always be so right in his worries? Bob was deep on the losing side of the fight, just as he feared he would be. Once the news spread about Bob’s demotion and Aileron getting  _ APOLOGIZED _ to by the Major in charge of the area, the cocky plane had only gotten WORSE. He was apparently untouchable now, thanks to his victim status and that perfect record of his, and Bob wasn’t allowed to lay a feather on him. The major had explicitly forbidden it. Seems he’d taken a liking to the rookie, and was protecting him personally with his long reaching influence, exactly the  _ LAST _ thing he needed, something the whole base agreed on, but we're still powerless to stop. Aileron needed a lesson in HUMILITY, and he apparently wasn’t gonna get one, maybe  _ EVER _ , and Bob for one was beyond worried under that immovably stoic beak of his.

  
The next few months were hell for the base and for the bird in charge of it. What with Aileron just getting worse and worse and him not able to do a thing about it except scream in his face, which the cocky ass would just smirk through, knowing he couldn’t be touched. He was gaining weight, stealing other planes fuel rations, provoking anyone he could and trying to show off his superiority to anyone and everyone. Luckily for the rest of the base, the other planes mostly had learned to stay away and not engage with the star of the base, but even that came with the downside of fueling Aileron’s ego.  _ How good must he be for nobody to even want to TRY and challenge him! _ Bob constantly thought about what could happen if he did beat some sense into him? He’d probably lose another rank, maybe lose control over the base, maybe even be forced to retire, but he was going to do that soon anyway, maybe it’d be worth it to actually set the kid in his place…


	3. Growing Problems

Those thoughts and temptations only grew when some of his planes started disappearing. It was as if the base was unraveling right under his wings, until he figured out what it was, and what happened to WingFold, and then to BrownGear, and WindLock… Aileron happened.

He was getting absolutely  _ HUGE _ , over  _ DOUBLE _ his already bulky original flying weight, and giving the cargo planes of the hangar a run for their money in the girth department. There weren’t enough rations on the whole base to sustain such a weight without starving everyone else, and the three who’d gone missing were the three who had crossed paths with Aileron worst in the past. He. Was.  _ EATING _ . Them. Had to be! There was no other explanation. Especially with the flight weights on Aileron’s last three missions having jumped so suddenly, right in tandem with the disappearances. To make things worse, each of those three missions had gotten progressively worse and worse, closer to failure each time as Aileron was slowing and slacking more and more.

What was worse was that Bob had pleaded his case to the Major over and over, at each disappearance, but Aileron had been careful. Without any sort of evidence left behind, nor video footage, it was the disgraced former Captain’s word against the Major’s favorite. The major sided with Aileron’s case every time, and had never once even thought to go see what Bob was talking about firsthand. In the major’s mind, Aileron was still the same buff specimen he’d shook hands with right off the assembly line and that the success rate was the only thing that mattered. If anything, the old bird was holding a grudge, and looking to try and sabotage his star. It was taking all his self control for Bob to not outright rip his own feathers out in frustration over all this as he watched his base slip further each week and not being able to do anything about it. All he could do was limit Aileron’s assignments and try to tighten up security around the place and hopefully save as many of his planes as possible from crossing paths with the “star rescuer of Echo Base”.

Aileron couldn’t care less about his lessened mission schedule, it meant he could sit around and eat, or rather, drink more! The one thorn in his side was that the old Phoenix seemed to have caught onto his game. He’d had the barracks moved and the schedules changed up in order to give Aileron absolutely zero opportunities to find a prey to swallow, or so it seemed anyways. He was a smart guy, the old bird, but surely the best plane built in generations was  _ smarter _ . He was already faster and better than everyone else, why wouldn’t he be smarter too? All he had to do in his mind was to find the right opportunity.

In fact, Aileron was pretty sure of where he’d get his next target. In the commons area there were no cameras, and everyone was too afraid to rat him out on it anyways if they saw, so that was the spot he’d gulp down the next on his “food list” of sorts. The old cargo plane that watched him like a hawk, hoping for a provable slip up that he could report in. He was pretty sure Bob was working with him, letting him off easy from his duties and giving him slack to try and give him all the opportunities he could to catch Aileron out. Oh he’d catch him alright, the only thing is that he’d be caught too before he could report to daddy bird. It’d just take a little extra work to dispose of the “evidence”, cargo planes were pretty damn big after all.

  
Really Bob should be thankful for what he was doing! He was getting rid of the weak and the useless and the problem planes! Each one he ate only made him feel that much stronger, and why  _ shouldn’t _ they add to his strength! It was their own fault for getting eaten if they weren’t gonna give him the respect and admiration he deserved. Even like this he was still absolutely flawless in his mission record after all, and that made him clearly the best plane on base! Didn’t matter how close of a shave his recent missions were, his record stood unblemished and because of it that old bird had no leverage against him. All he had to do was keep winning and he’d stay on easy street forever!  
  
  



	4. Over The Edge

*URP!* “ _ What _ ? You want a piece of this too?” He glared at his fellow planes, threatening to eat them too, after having just devoured the biggest cargo plane in the hangar right there in the common area, confirming most of the rumors about his literally voracious appetite to basically everyone, and scaring the oil out of each and every one of them. The cocky, arrogant asshole of a plane was getting worse by the day now it seemed, ballooning even bigger and fatter as he guzzled half the fuel on the base, and now eating now a 4th plane. Worst of all, nobody seemed willing or able to stop him, not his peers nor his commanding officers. Hell, seeing as how he hadn't been sent on any flights for a full 2 weeks now, it left a lot of the hangar to wonder if Aileron could even still FLY, much less complete a mission successfully if he were ever assigned one...

*DING!* "AILERON! REPORT TO RUNWAY C FOR MISSION BRIEFING!” The announcement came over the loudspeakers, all eyes left in the room who hadn't fled turning to the giant fatso.

“Oh you gotta be  _ fucking _ kidding me!” He groaned at the perfectly awful timing of it. Now!? Right now!? Right after he’d finally gone and devoured his biggest meal yet?! He couldn't believe it. Still, the heavily weighted down plane had no choice but to grunt and chunder his way towards the runway, it would be a miracle if he could complete this mission.

“AILERON. We have a hostile force having discovered one of our spies among them. He has been told to get to the roof in precisely 10 minutes where you can airscoop him. You are to be escorted by Cell for support.”

"WHAT! No way, I only do solo mis-"

“THAT'S AN ORDER AILERON!” Bob cut him off, scowling his hardest scowl possible, letting every drop of resentment show in his face to the fatass looking back at him. The phoenix had managed to finally convince the Major to let him assign a wingman to his star rescuer, and thank fuck for it. Not only would there be someone to actually go and get the target out if Aileron failed, which was pretty damn likely at this point, but just maybe finally there’d be video from someone other than Aileron’s own camera perspective to add to the report and  _ SHOW _ the idiot in the Majors office just what the hell was going on and get things  _ FIXED _ around here.

Aileron grumbled as he glared at the smaller scout plane there beside him on the tarmac, already ready for his mission, and trying hard to ignore the hulking fatso beside him. He was the last plane on Aileron’s list, indeed Cell was quite clearly siding with Bob, and probably on this mission to rat him out, at least in his mind. That’s alright, he’d figure something out to counter him! He was the better after all, and he didn’t plan on failing this mission anyways! Another win to his spotless record was on it’s way and there’d be nothing Bob or Cell would have for ammo against him.

Both of them were dismissed to begin their mission, Cell taking off with a diving rush down the runway and was airborne in mere seconds. Aileron meanwhile, hefting his massive gut up in his claws, chundered down, nearly cracking the pavement beneath him as he fired his engines and somehow managed to pick up enough speed that when he launched himself at the end of the runway he was airborne as well, though his engines were running full blast in order to do so.

They arrived within the hot zone barely in time, Aileron’s arrogant pride was pushing him onwards to reach the zone and avoid sullying his record as he located the target emerging onto the roof, just as expected. He swooped down and reached his big claws down, aiming for the latch the target was holding high into the air to get scooped up by, but no success was to be his this time. As long as his claws were, his gut was just too big today, and the latch bounced off of it and out of his claws, leaving the target standing there, isolated atop the roof and vulnerable. Aileron swore like crazy as he swung around for another pass, and with the element of surprise gone, this time was opened fire upon as he came around for a second go. With the live fire coming his way, the big plane couldn't get a proper run in anymore, and further complicating matters was that the roof was now occupied by more than just the target… Hostiles were approaching to try and corner and capture him now as well. “FUCK!”

Cell wasn't an idiot, scout planes didn't have the luxury of not being smart. He knew Aileron wasn't going to be able to get the job done on this mission, and one more failed swoop attempt was going to get one or all of them captured or killed.

Cell snuck through the air to the other side of Ailerons approach angle, and as the enemy concentrated on the fatter plane, the scout plane dove towards their target and reached down like he'd never been trained for.

*SWOOOSH!*

*BANG BANG BANG!*

Aileron retreated back towards the base and watched as Cell, with his engines blaring even harder than his own were, booked it out of the hot zone as fast as he could… Bleeding oil, and the target in his claws dripping blood from where he'd been shot...


	5. Undoing

“HEY! He was the one who went and tried to rush in himself and complete the mission! I would have gotten him if he’d have let me complete another pass!” Aileron tried to defend himself, weakly. The phoenix absolutely boiling with rage at the fact that the plane was doing anything other than apologizing profusely and begging to be given a chance to change his ways.

“YOU SHOULDN’T BE  _ MAKING _ A  _ SECOND OR THIRD PASS _ IN THE  _ FIRST PLACE _ ! YOUR  _ JOB _ WAS TO GET HIM ON THE  _ FIRST TRY BEFORE THE ENEMY NOTICES ANYTHING YOU INCOMPETENT SON OF A BITCH! _ ” He roared right in the plane’s face, absolutely livid at him, cutting away all the bullshit and dressing down the arrogant fuck right where he defiantly stood. It was taking every ounce of the immense self control the bird had to not kill Aileron where he stood, arriving a solid  _ 30 MINUTES _ after Cell, the smaller scout plane barely managing to limp his way through the air to a “landing” by the time he’d gotten back to Echo. Of course by that time the whole fucking base was waiting for his arival, to watch the chewing out he’d get after Cell’s having to be rushed off to the medical ward alongside the target of the mission. Both would live, thankfully, but Aileron, head so deep up his ass he couldn't take a single lick of criticism, deflected blame for the target getting shot again…

“Yeah well the target should have gotten higher, or maybe I should be given a mission right after lunchtime.”

Well... his C.O. was having none of that, and screw the court martial, if he wasn’t over the line already with his attitude that right there was the foot that stepped across. Bob was gonna teach that asshole a lesson right then and there before kicking his ass out of the hangar for good. The veteran phoenix had no trouble at all once again kicking down and then pinning Aileron to the ground, nor did he have trouble in the middle of the brawl getting as many hard jabs, hooks, scratches, and bites in as he wanted. He’d been bottling this up for months now and finally he had the excuse and the proof he needed to get away with giving the pummeling of a lifetime to he who deserved it most. It was only around the sixth minute or so of getting his ass kicked that Aileron began to understand that he was outmatched, tired, and only going to get more beat up if he kept fighting. Bob might have been old, but he was more than a match for Aileron in his prime, much less in this sorry state. Finally the plane had stopped putting up a fight, allowing himself to simply take the beatdown, before he was easily dragged out of the hangar in disgrace, thrown face first into the road at the gate, and told simply, that if he ever blew through their airspace again, he'd be shot down on sight, and go missing like so many of the other planes at his hangar…

Well fuck….

“Rock, meet bottom.” Bob muttered under his breath as he sealed the gate behind him, turning to disperse the crowd of onlookers who had followed the spectacle to its conclusion here at the entrance, or rather, the exit. “CLEAR THE AREA!” He ordered, and within seconds he was by himself again. He sighed a heavy breath and looked back with a fleeting glimpse, thinking to himself… “I hope this finally gets things through to you Ron…”

It didn’t much matter to the phoenix that even after he showed the videos to the Major that he was still asked to retire, he knew this was the only way things were ever going to work out for either the base, himself, or especially for ‘Ron was to take away everything the plane had been gifted on a silver platter his whole life and finally make him have to build  _ HIMSELF _ back up. He’d seen plenty through his life to know that. The base command was soon transferred over, the new hotshot came in and started his own streak of successful missions, this time luckily with not a perfect record, and he got the dressing down he needed for his failures like any rookie needs to get their head on straight. Life went on. The phoenix would go off to retire at his old stomping grounds back in New Jersey, and everything seemed back to normal.

  
Except for one, very important plane, currently struggling to limp his way through the airspace surrounding the base, no idea where he could possibly go or do now that he’d been discharged, just finally for once in his life knowing that he’d fucked up.  _ Badly _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah the image for this chapter doesn't fit with the canon of the story. There's an explanation for that. I got these images all as a package deal pre-made, and wrote the story around them, but in the process decided that Aileron's Commanding Officer should be another one of my characters for an important reason down the line, and so I changed him to Bob the Phoenix. So thats why there's the error.


	6. The Struggle

Kicked out of the hangar, and the air force, homeless, jobless, at least he was lucky he was a bio-engineered planedragon instead of the more traditional aeromorphs he knew of back at the base, who could be parted out when they were decommissioned. He couldn’t really be “disassembled”, only dismembered, which would pretty much make the lost limbs and such worthless. That was about as far as his luck ran though. He had burned so many bridges over the course of his time there at the base that now he had no place to turn towards at all. No friends, relatives of friends, nothing.

He tried to fly off to the next airbase nearby, but of course by the time he got there word had spread, and he wasn’t even allowed through their airspace, much less to land. Same with the next one. Then the same with the civilian airports too. Well shit, there went  _ THAT _ idea. Apparently there was some sort of blacklist they all had access to, and he was now on it. Noplace was gonna take him in. In reality he was lucky that the Major still liked him enough to not put him on the no-fly list, thus he wouldn’t be shot out of the open skies, but even then…

Aileron landed…. Somewhere… He had no idea where he was, or what he was doing. But he didn’t have much choice in the matter, he was running low on fuel, and he could see the airport nearby from where he’d made his descent. He might not be able to get fuel there, but maybe he could check their junkyard and disposal grounds and see if there was any expired fuel barrels he could scrounge. It seemed he was homeless now, living on the streets, might as well get to acting like it.

Of course he was pissed as he scrounged about. He still had his pride damnit! Dented and mangled as it was, he was still the most well built bioengineered plane dragon he knew of! Surely someone could make good use of him and give him a job so he could get a hangar space and stop this stupid “Lesson” the Phoenix was probably thinking he was teaching him. That damned bird had taken everything from him in one fell swoop! The only thing stopping him from going and knocking the birds beak off were three things. He knew he couldn’t take him in a fight, clearly, and secondly he wasn’t about to go get a gun and  _ MURDER _ him or anything! No way! He was a soldier for good! Third, he had no idea where Bob was. So he stewed instead in between scrounging oil barrels and other makeshift fuel sources, like the oil vat being changed at the local McNaldos, or the discarded oil being changed at the local car repair shop. All of it made his engines grind and strain, but at least they worked... sort of… barely.

He flew as little as possible because of it, supplementing his fuel consumption with more normal foods now, since they were quite a lot easier to scrounge, and also didn’t wear out his mechanical parts. Still, eating burgers out of the trash and stuff was humiliating. The thought occurred to him to keep eating folks, but dismissed it quickly, he wasn’t stupid. This was a different world, nobody was on his side here that would allow him to get away with stuff like that anymore. Being homeless was one thing, but being a felon in jail was another. Again, he still had SOME pride. Still, being grounded so much was absolutely awful, sleeping in the streets was equally so, and it wore down on him just like Bob hoped it would.

Slowly, and steadily, Aileron’s rage at feeling slighted by the phoenix began to fade to a dull simmer as he focused merely on making the days food and finding a spot to sleep. All this time to think finally let him begin to realize what a tremendous ass he had been. Sure it took a solid 6 months before he was finally ground down enough to admit it, but he had come around to finally regretting his past self after a particularly bad day, coming out of yet another police station with a warning not to trespass again at wherever it was he had trespassed this time, he couldn’t be bothered to remember. He counted three times he’d nearly gone to prison now with that one, twice he’d nearly starved here on the streets, and four times he’d had to enact repairs on himself with only the help of good Samaritans who happened to know something about mechanics thanks to working on their own cars, except for the one time he broke down while scrounging around an aircraft salvage yard, and thus someone who knew planes was there and able to help.

He thought about his future, or possible lack thereof, that day sitting outside the police station after being let off generously with the warning. He realized in all that time there were precisely zero job offers at any of the places he tried. Nobody believed someone as fat as him would be a good flier, especially with his worn down and badly fueled engines, and they were kind of right. The times he could make it off the ground nowadays were rare, and when he did he could feel the wear and tear on him actually happening. It was time to start thinking about… other options...


	7. Soft Fat and it's Usefulness

The thought of whoring was one that had occurred to ‘Ron over the course of those six months, the first five or so he’d never considered it. That sixth month though, he was struggling to keep the idea down after it first popped up in his head. He’d made a habit of burning time at internet cafes and public libraries or college campuses, wherever he could get access to an internet enabled computer. While it wasn’t something he looked forward to doing, he’d heard rumors and such about communities where fat folks were admired and even fawned over. Pushing down those thoughts about selling his bodily services got tougher when he discovered the likes of grommr, but then again, after a rare stroke of luck in finding a digital camera left behind at a park, the thoughts morphed slightly to the possibility, that maybe he could get away with just showcasing his body online and make money that way? Sure the idea felt degrading somewhat at first, but hey, he was already homeless, the bar for dignity was already fairly low. So he began posting. Posting anywhere and everywhere he could think of, pictures and videos, both of the clean variety… and when he found a bathroom that was large enough to fit him and the camera, suggestive pictures and video as well...

The idea grew more and more appealing as he began to get donations, folks offering to buy him food if he’d just record himself eating it, donation links and such churning out revenue into prepaid cards, and by the 9th month after he was kicked out, he’d accumulated a fairly large following despite his situation. Then one of his followers offered him a cool 200 bucks to fly over to his place.

Aileron was a little iffy at first, but that couple hundred would either get him a laptop of his own so he could stop having to post sexy pics in public at the local library, or at the very least it could easily get him another months worth of cheap food, possibly even start up a bank account with it! Pretty soon he was just unable to deny that amount, and again the logic was in his head. “Already homeless, and posting pictures of my body online for food and cash, where’s the bar?...” Either way, he took the chance, and using the best fuel he could buy to fuel himself, flew to the address given to him, where he’d met a blue and yellow frog that said he’d found him early on Grommr and had loved every pic.

It was a bit creepy, but he wasn’t worried for his safety, mostly because he was at least 3 times the size of the little five-foot-nothing amphibian. It was mostly his own dignity and pride he was worried about. Turned out that he hadn’t crossed the line of outright whoring yet, at least in his mind, as the whole night he just let himself sit and be snuggled and fondled over by what turned out to be quite an admirer of his belly and moobs, getting fed a whole pizza by the little guy, and not too much else. Really Ron was shocked that the frog never once brought up sex or anything adjacent to it, even if he did ask to take pictures and video together of nearly the entire night, but Ron was already doing that. He figured it would probably be masturbation material later, and that he’d gotten lucky the frog was a bit too shy to fuck on a first meeting. Still though, as he laid back with a full belly in the big bean bag chair, the little guy croaking pleasantly as he rubbed his fat, full belly, Ron caught himself thinking...

  
This was such a simpler and easier possibility than he’d ever dealt with before. It was straightforward, and kinda flattering too. He didn’t have to try and  _ PROVE _ himself to anyone! All that trying to be the top dog in the yard, constant competition and intimidation that he thought was his lifesblood, it all meant nothing out here in the real world, and especially in  _ THIS _ world he’d found. It was refreshing! Even if it was taking some getting used to. This whole deal of being paid to show off his body, and even more to share it with a select few, and all he had to do was keep being his big, fat, indulgent self?… "I can keep doing this..." He smiled gently for the first time in a while as he hugged the cuddling little frog to his gut and heard him croak again in approval.


	8. A New Way of Working

It was the year anniversary of the day he’d gotten kicked out of the force, and here he stood outside the door to his newest and biggest patron. The promise of a $500 “and more” payday for showing up and being ready for anything was just on the other side of the thin wooden plank with a knob on it. He reached up and gave a knock, not yet realizing just what “ready for anything” actually meant in this case. He’d assumed it would mean someone who actually did wanna fuck his belly or something similar, as he’d crossed that threshhold with his second visit to the frog’s place, and found himself oddly fine with it. Really, what was with the stigma against whoring for anyways? The frog had certainly enjoyed himself and gotten his moneys worth, and Aileron didn’t mind one bit, actually finding the whole thing pretty flattering, feeling the frog going nuts on him and gushing over how hot his big fat self was.

Aileron’s mind was brought back to the present when the door lock clicked open and the door slowly began to expose the inside of the house. “Showtime” He smirked, striking his best “sexy fatboy pose” as he’d started calling them, hands up over his head and that big smirk on him along with a lift of his hip to one side, making his shirtless gut lift to one side and droop to the other, and bulge out in front of him. Of course that smug, smirk on his face suddenly shifted to abject shock and horror when the door finished swinging open and revealed who had opened it. “B-BOB?!”

He stood stone still at the sight of his former C.O., the phoenix in his sleeveless shirt and shorts now, never having looked more casual. The phoenix eyed up the plane, analyzing his reaction to seeing him again, and he was pleased by what he saw. A deer frozen in headlights, and insecurity, loads and loads of insecurity, just like he was hoping to see. The only other alternative in Bob’s mind would have been a death glare and an attempt to punch the bird right upside the beak, which would not have gone well for the plane, and proven that he hadn’t in fact learned anything. Bob was pretty sure that wasn’t the case though. “Come on inside Ron. There’s no need for ranks here.” he ushered the plane inside, “and don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He reassured the nervous plane until he in fact did turn sideways and step through the door into the humble yet still upscale place, guided to turn right and take a seat on the couch in the living room, where a big mug of proper jet fuel sat nice and warm on the table.

There was something oddly disarming about the old phoenix, a side he’d of course never seen before, and one that managed to coax him along despite his sheer panic and uncertainty Aileron was feeling about what to say or do. He had no idea what was going on, or if he was getting setup for a slaughter, metaphorical or maybe physical if the bird was holding a grudge against him, or any number of horrible thoughts that were throwing him off and keeping him tense as a rubber band stretched from New York to Chicago. “Sit.” The bird ordered calmly. “Drink. Relax. Breeeeathe.” the plane obeyed, tension leaving his shoulders just a bit as he focused on breathing again and taking the occasional gulp of proper fuel, unable to help but close his eyes and revel at the taste of it, it’s inky black and shiny surface coupled with it’s thick viscous texture was something he felt like he might never taste again. “Better?” Bob asked after a few rounds of deep and quiet breathing broken up by hearty gulps of fuel.

“A… a bit, yeah.” Ron responded, trailing off.

“Good. If you haven’t guessed by now, I’ve been keeping tabs on you, and I know what you’ve been up to.” Bob didn’t waste any more time than was necessary, yet his voice was as smooth as the jet fuel, trying to be as disarming as possible. Still, his words made the plane tense again, sending thoughts into his imagination about him disapproving of the… well… there was no other way to describe it but whoring… And about what he might do in order to intervene. Thoughts swirled within seconds about him getting lectured on not debasing himself, how it was shameful and awful, and that it was a cowards way to work, or any number of things that he imagined the old bird scoffing at him with. Mixed in those worries though was a flash of defiance, that he didn’t _ want _ to stop doing this. He was liking it! And fuck Bob if he was gonna come and screw up his life out of nowhere _ again _ just when he’d started to get it figured out! And furthermore, he-!

“And I’m proud of you so far.”

Wait. What?...

The old bird chuckled, sitting back to sip his malt and enjoy the stunned look on Aileron’s face. “Yup. You’ve been doing well so far. You’ve stayed well clear of getting thrown in jail. You haven’t been stealing or picking fights for no reason. In fact, I saw the one time you _ DID _ encounter a thug last month, and fled rather than stay and fight.” Bob took another sip, casually remarking on Aileron’s life thus far with a neutrality of tone that left him unsure of what to think. “And you even found an honest source of income. No shame in being a male model, and even an escort. I’ll be blunt though, I am surprised at that route, I figured you’d end up doing stuff like selling aerial tours to folks around popular landmarks or some other be-your-own-boss kind of sidewalk job. You’re built perfectly for giving civilians rides after all. Those long claws will keep anyone safely tucked into you, that fur is perfect for keeping passengers warm, and you’ve already had tons of experience carrying passengers anyways.”

Every word out of the Phoenix’s mouth left Aileron’s jaw agape, and for a different reason with each sentence. How the hell did he not think of that job idea from the very beginning when his engines were still at peak performance?! Helicopter tours or such were super popular at tourist destinations, and he could easily make hundreds a day doing just that! He especially felt stupid because he wasn’t on any sort of no-fly list either, there was nothing stopping him from doing that except that he didn’t once think of the idea! Granted, now that would have to wait until he got his engines fixed, by now they were in some serious need of maintenance after all those makeshift fuels had taken their toll. As it was though, Bob knew about the whoring too, and was, approving of it?! A million questions hit his head about how he could be so ok with it, and why!? Actually it was only those two questions, but those two simple questions _ FELT _ like a million questions, especially because he already knew that the answers didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his choices were being validated. He was being vindicated it seemed. Was he just dreaming on some park bench right now, about to wake up at any moment by some police officer telling him to move along?   
  
“But I have one important question to ask you now Ron. One which is the whole reason I’ve brought you here.” The retired phoenix set his drink down and leaned forward, the death glare on his beak and his piercing gaze sending flashbacks through Ron’s head about the times Bob had chewed him out back on the tarmac, except this time he actually was afraid of the bird, like Bob wanted him to be. “Did you eat those missing planes.”

He was deathly serious, and Ron knew it. The words made up a question, but it didn’t feel like a question. If anything, they felt like a declarative statement… and a test… Though the plane was currently just a bit too parylized by fear to figure that last part out, just like Bob wanted.

“I…” Ron staggered verbally for a moment, trying to decide what to say or do… before his mouth seemed to almost move on it’s own without him consciously wanting it to. “I did… And I’m never going to do it again. It was-… I was… wrong…” He finally managed to mutter out as his thought process caught up to his mouth and he realized what he was saying, and why it needed to be said.

“GOOD.” Ailerons head jolted back upright from the staring-at-his-own-feet position it’d been hanging in when Bob declared loudly and quickly just that one word in response. The phoenix stood, and ushered the plane to get himself up as well and follow him further into his place, specifically into his garage. Ron followed tentatively, still unsure of where they were going now but at least no longer feeling like anything horrible was going to happen to him. Opening the door to the phoenix's garage revealed a plethora of tools, manual and powered versions alike, and a big workbench with its legs shortened pulled into the center of the room. “The $500 I told ya about is in the wallet on the left hand side there, along with another $500 and a few business cards you might find helpful. Now, lay down and let me take a look at those engines, I was in engineering division before I switched to command, and I still tinker every now and again. I know for a _ FACT _ you could at the very least use a few replacement parts by now. Parts like these.” He kicked the box sitting beside the doorway as Aileron moved towards the workbench hesitantly, not so much unsure of what was going on anymore, he just couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Those boxes featured the logo of his manufacturer, and were big enough-…. They were spare engines!… Or at least, the components that made up new engines, from turbines to fuel lines. Bob was gonna fix him!?

Aileron laid down on his front on the workbench and eyed the phoenix in silence and disbelief, but in the back of his mind, a few things started clicking. Was it really so hard to believe he was gonna repair him? In a way, that’s all he was ever trying to do ever since day one was to repair him, only personality-wise instead of physically. Even now, he was accepting in a way that made the big plane feel like he didn’t have to _ TRY _ to make himself acceptable, the complete opposite of the endless fight and struggle for respect and power he thought his life was going to be when he was first commissioned. But here Bob was, opening the hatches hidden under the fur, working on his mechanical parts, and never once even commenting on any of his still less than perfect choices. He didn’t care about the modeling, or the whoring, or how huge and fat the plane was, or anything at all except for that he wasn’t going to hurt anyone, and that he was going to take care of himself… It was…. Nice…

* * *

“Aaaalllright, that should do it.” The phoenix tightened the last bolt and wiped his feathered brow of sweat with a sigh and nod of satisfaction. “Give em a test burn Ron.” The old bird instructed, as Aileron looked back over his shoulder and braced against the table, his engines whirring to life again and the feel of a powerful, fresh burst of thrust pushing him forwards was like lifeblood surging through his veins. Builders alive he could feel the power of those turbines again! Even at the 25% light thrust he was giving them, they were already threatening to shove his fat ass right off the table and into the far wall! He hadn’t felt so strong since his time at the base! The old bird chuckled at the look of glee and shock on Ron’s face before a question flashed through Ron’s head and changed the look to one of curious and cautious concern as he powered down his engines and turned his gaze to meet the Phoenix.

“W-why are you doing all this for me?...” He asked quietly, needing to know the answer. He wasn’t worth all this treatment, he was, well, _ HIM _ . An asshole who picked fights, shoved away anyone and everyone, and outright _ ate people _ . Sure that wasn’t who he was _ anymore _, but still!

“Because everyone deserves a second chance Ron. I’m just giving you yours.” He picked up the previously mentioned wallet and offered it to the plane, who had shifted to sitting upright on the bench, fully aware for probably the first time in his life of what was going on and what his future might just look like. He took the wallet into his hands and stared at it for a moment, then a few more moments… and tears began to drip from his eyes. He very nearly said “I don’t deserve a second chance, though.” But he knew the bird would counter it immediately with “Everyone does, including you.” So he didn’t bother, instead simply clutching his “second chance” tight in his hands, and uttered. “Thank you, sir.” before he leaned into the old birds embrace as Bob hugged his warm wings around as much of the big plane as he could reach.

“Don’t waste it son.” He ordered softly.

“I won’t…” He reached up and hugged Bob back, never having been more resolved in his life.


	9. Epilogue: "Don't Waste It..."

Aileron flew the short distance from the boardwalk managers office to the house address written on the last business card. Man, Bob thought of absolutely everything with this whole second chance thing, it was incredible!

The cards were numbered by Bob as to which order he should do them in. The first card had been the number for a fellow plane. Another bio-engineered one in fact, an experimental snake-plane design by the name of Stryke. Granted, he was a _failed_ experiment, retired after only a few test missions when it was discovered that having no arms or legs indeed made him faster in a straight line through the air, but it also meant he couldn't do much of anything else, and was taken out pretty easily in training missions whenever a combatant did manage to catch up with him. A shot down spy plane wasn't a very useful spy plane.

Still though, he could commiserate with Aileron over what it was like to BE a bio-plane in the force, and just, chat! For Stryke it was nothing all that special, but Aileron found himself on the verge of tears for a while as he sat beside the snake-plane in his shack, until finally he started crying outright. He never realized how lonely he was being the top-gun was for him until now, and cried even harder when Stryke coiled his long body around him to hug the big, sobbing softie. There were those pesky thoughts about not being deserving again that he needed to push down...

The second card had the number for the local aviation authority, with a note on it from Bob telling him who to ask for and talk to in order to get registered as a local frequent non-combatant flier in the area of the New Jersey shore. "Ahhh! You're the Aileron that Bob was talking about!" the voice on the other line began, quickly giving and getting the information needed from Ron to finish his registration, which gave him access to the local airfield and even the flying gym adjacent to it, two places he thought he would never get to see the likes of again. He was overjoyed to say the least by the time he'd hung up the phone.

The third card of the pack lead him to the Seaside Heights boardwalk managers office, where he'd quickly gotten approval to set up shop on an open space of the pier to sell his ride services, thanks to Bob's advance help once again. It was an exciting thought, the idea of showing the boardwalk to tourists from the sky just as the old bird had suggested.

The fourth and final card lead him here, to a moderately sized house a few blocks away from said boardwalk. The note on the card specifically said to come here last, and had the logo of the Sawmill Pizzeria on the front of the card, a place he'd seen on the boardwalk from the air. With a knock of the door the screen he didn't notice next to it turned on and flashed the image of a pink yoshi girl with two horns onscreen, which seemed to stare at him for a moment in silence, looking him over. "Uhmmmm.. h-hello?" Aileron muttered out after staring back for a few awkward seconds, before the yoshi smiled and giggled in her chipper voice.

[Hi there! ^_^] The yoshi avatar beamed [Aileron right? I'm Kelly! Iron's house A.I.! Go ahead and fly up to the balcony in the back, I'll have IronGut waiting for you there! You're bigger than Bob lead me to believe hehe ^^] And with that the screen clicked off and left the bewildered plane with nothing to do but follow the instruction. With a mechanical whine of his engines he took off and hopped over the roof to land softly down onto the big stone balcony of the place, taking a moment to admire the view of the docks it had before the door opened and a fat shirtless red shark anthro came strolling out.

"Ahhh there you are! Was wondering when you'd arrive. Bob told me a lot about you down at the Sawmill." He offered a hand for Aileron to shake, the tentative plane taking it and shaking it firmly, but softly, but firmly, but... oh man this was probably weird, squeezing and unsqueezing his hand like that trying to figure out how hard to shake... Luckily for the plane the shark only laughed it off.

"Y-you're IronGut?" Ron asked, unsure of what else to say, he felt like such a passenger in this whole conversation, kinda like he had the previous two business cards, but especially here.

"Yup. Bob's a regular customer of mine. I'm the head bartender over at the sawmill, and he's there just about every day for a malt and to talk to whoever needs a talking to there, and when there isn't anyone who needs his advice and such, he'll chat with me." Well that explains the odd passenger feeling. He knew nothing about the shark, but builders only knew how much the shark knew about him. "He tells me you're looking for a place to crash, so to speak." The shark thought about and winced a bit at his use of the word 'crash' the moment it came from his mouth.

Ron felt nothing of it though, it was nothing, and he let out a single "heh" in response before replying. "Yeah, I am uh... kinda homeless right now... Uhm, I can pay some rent for you but I don't know how much I can affo-"

  
  
"Whatever you can manage big guy." Iron cut him off with a smile "I don't use the balcony all that often anyways, heheh." the shark chuckled and gestured around him to said stonework, the retractable awning extending out over the two of them when he snapped his fingers and then left to go and get some amenities like the big beanbag chair from his room, the one piece of "furniture" he had big enough for the ten foot tall plane. Meanwhile Aileron couldn't help but just, stare at the stone beneath his feet.

A landing pad... _HIS_ landing pad... the tears threatened to start falling again as it sunk into him just how much Bob had given to him. Aileron felt like he owed Bob everything now, more than everything. He already owed the phoenix so much for just, not kicking his ass again when he saw him again, but then he went and repaired him, refueled him, and done all this... A friend, a new job, enough money to fall back onto, and a place to stay... He could never repay the old bird enough for what he'd given him with this second chance of his. He'd given Aileron a life...


End file.
